


The Mage

by impalaloompa



Series: Destiny [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, i really need to lay off this poor bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaloompa/pseuds/impalaloompa
Summary: “You are right to look for him,” Yennefer picked out a few herbs and laid them on the table, “He broke away from the Brotherhood around the same time I did. But his sense of grandeur is making him dangerous. He’s meddling with forces he doesn’t understand.”“Who is he?” Geralt rumbled.“Nïombre,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “Do what you must to Nïombre to stop him, but don’t kill him.”“Why?” Geralt growled.“He’s my way back into the good graces of the Brotherhood. I need something from them, he can get me it.”“Fine,” Geralt growled.
Series: Destiny [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616698
Comments: 6
Kudos: 125





	The Mage

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the sequel to The Manticore.   
> Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated.

A thin layer of snow covered the ground as more fell softly, creating a deafening silence through the trees and around the clearing.

Geralt stood in the open, his breath billowing in clouds, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

In the middle of the clearing was a large carcass, slowly being buried under feathery white. The manticore Geralt had slain two days back. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out here staring at it, hoping it would give him some sort of answer to the many questions plaguing him. 

His fight with the beast hadn’t been easy and if it hadn’t been for Jaskier he probably wouldn’t still be standing.

He let his thoughts flick to the recovering Bard, safe and warm back in the tavern. Bravery was not a word he associated with Jaskier. Lack of self-preservation maybe, but there was no denying that without him, things would have gone a lot worse.

Then there had been that complete unbridled fear, nothing like he had ever felt before, when looking at Jaskier dying on the table from the manticore’s poison. If it hadn’t been for the Mage…

If it hadn’t been for the Mage none of this would have happened, Jaskier wouldn’t have almost died, and Geralt would still be South, enjoying the last of the summer warmth instead of being stuck in this frozen wilderness. 

A great sense of unease burdened him. He needed to find that Mage. 

Geralt blinked as a snowflake settled on his eyelash. He grunted to himself, turned his back on the manticore and started heading back into the woods towards town. 

He paused at the edge of the clearing, looked back at the slain monster. He couldn’t help but feel he was missing something. Something important but just out of reach.

He grumbled then moved off between the trees. The snow crunching underfoot, the cold air pressing all around him, the steady drift of white from the clouds above. 

This was the closest thing to peace that Geralt had had in a long time. But it was undercut with a feeling of dread that he couldn’t shake. 

Eventually he emerged from the trees and made his way back into the town. The odd person scurried here and there, wrapped up tightly against the elements. Most still avoided him, still nervous, even though he had saved them from the manticore. He didn’t care. He was used to it. He didn’t think he’d cope well if people flocked to him, revelling in his fame like the Bard was so desperately trying to do with his epic songs of Geralt’s good deeds.

The Witcher entered the tavern and looked around. He let a smile twitch his lips when he saw Jaskier bundled up in blankets at a table in the corner, still looking a little worse for wear but he had a serious focus to him as he scribbled in his notebook. 

Geralt approached and when Jaskier noticed him the focus evaporated immediately.

“Geralt! What rhymes with manticore?” the Bard asked, fixing him with a puzzled expression.

“Uh…” Geralt sat down opposite him.

“Because you see, you see I’m this close to a perfect line, but I need a word and I can’t seem to – what?” Jaskier narrowed his eyes at Geralt’s expression.

Indignation crossed the Bard’s face and before Geralt could open his mouth Jaskier had half jumped out of his chair, spilling blankets all over the place and pointing very sternly at him.

“N-no. No, you are not leaving me here to go galivanting off after this Mage all by yourself. Not after what we’ve just been – what I’ve just been through. You have another thing coming if you think I’m going to let you abandon me, again, and – and – and – “ 

“Jaskier, I’m not leaving you,” Geralt gruffed.

“Oh,” Jaskier faltered, “Well good, that’s… good. Right,” he sank back in his chair and readjusted his blankets, “So, so what then?”

“I have an idea on how to find him,” Geralt shifted in his chair, gritting his teeth, “But I need something from his workshop and then we can get going. Are you well enough to travel?”

Jaskier nodded.

“We need to go now if we are to make the next village by nightfall,” Geralt stood and marched towards his room to gather his belongings.  
Jaskier scrambled after him to do the same.

“I’ll meet you by Roach,” the Witcher grumbled.

***  
Jaskier stood by the chestnut mare, hopping from foot to foot and blowing on his clasped hands. He had put his pack into one of her saddle bags and secured his lute to her saddle so that he could fully wrap himself in his cloak.

Roach snorted.

“Don’t look at me,” Jaskier huffed, “I don’t know where he is.”

Just as he spoke Geralt appeared with something bundled in his arms.

“About time you showed up, I thought I was going to freeze to death waiting for yo-wha-what’s that?” 

Geralt thrust the bundle at Jaskier and it unravelled into a long, thick, fur lined cloak.

“So you don’t freeze to death,” Geralt added his things to Roach’s saddle bags, patted her on the nose and turned away again.

“We’ll be back soon, one thing to do before we head off,” he reassured her.

He strode back into the centre of the town with Jaskier hard on his heels, now wrapped up and feeling less cold.

The pair approached the Mage’s workshop and without a beat Geralt kicked the door down. As he expected the Mage was long gone. He strode in but Jaskier hung in the doorway.

“I’m fine out here, Geralt,” he called after the Witcher, “I’ll just stay here. I’m good here. Keep watch or something.”

Geralt fisted a hand in Jaskier’s furs and pulled him inside.

“Okay, fine. So what exactly are you looking for?” the Bard grumbled.

“I’ll know when I see it,” Geralt started rummaging round the herb cabinet then quickly moved onto a shelf stacked with books, papers and trinkets.

Jaskier moved further into the room. It was bigger than he remembered, but then again, he had been pretty much gone the last time he was here. He shuddered. His eyes landed on the table in the middle of the workshop. Papers and books still scattered the floor, and there was still a smear of something on the table’s surface. 

Jaskier closed his eyes when he realised it was blood. His blood. 

Geralt paused in his search when the silence started to worry him. He looked up at the Bard who was white as a sheet, standing staring at the table where he had almost died. His chest tightened.

“Jaskier,” he called. 

The Bard jumped, shaken out of his trance.

“Come help me with this,” he indicated the bookshelf.

Jaskier hurried over and placed his hands where Geralt instructed. Together they pushed the entire bookcase hard against the wall until something clicked.

Geralt knelt and flicked a latch that had appeared on the wood behind one of the books. A small compartment opened and the Witcher removed a hexagonal box. Immediately he cracked it open.

“Should you really be doing that?” Jaskier worried, “Opening secret boxes from secret hiding places? Couldn’t it be, oh I don’t know, cursed or something?”

“The Mage’s seal,” Geralt help up a metal hexagon with inscriptions carved into its edges, “This will help us find him.”

***  
They had been walking for a few hours. Or rather Jaskier had been walking and Geralt sat astride his faithful mare.

Jaskier was babbling on about something, Geralt wasn’t sure, he’d stopped listening about an hour ago. But he made sure he kept an eye on the Bard.

He wasn’t convinced Jaskier was as well to travel as he said he was, and sure enough after another mile or so, the young man started to lag behind.

Geralt halted Roach and slipped off her back.

“Hm? We stopping?” Jaskier looked hopeful.

“No,” Geralt gruffed.

He took Jaskier by the waist and hoisted him onto Roach as if he weighed nothing.

“Woah! Hey! What are – “ Jaskier flailed and protested but before he knew it, he was astride Roach with Geralt leading her along the rocky path. 

“You’re slowing me down,” Geralt cast back at him. What he meant to say was that they’d move faster this way and the Jaskier could rest, but somewhere in processing this thought his tact was lost.

Jaskier tried to hide his hurt as he wrapped himself up in his cloaks and stared despondently at Roach’s ears.

Geralt frowned.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he tried.

“Is that why you leave me behind? Because I slow you down?” Jaskier mumbled.

“No,” Geralt looked back at him.

“So there’s another reason? You know what? I don’t care. What does it matter? Who will remember the lowly Bard in the grand scheme of things anyway? What’s my destiny, huh?”

“Destiny?” 

“Yeah, destiny. You with your, your Witchering and your child surprise. I think destiny forgot about me when it gave you everything,” he snarked.

“Jaskier,” Geralt stopped walking and let go of Roach so he could stand next to his friend, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous am I? Well that’s one word for it I suppose. Nice to know what you really think,” Jaskier glowered at the Witcher.

Geralt could see that the man was shivering despite the cloaks. He had a strange look in his eye and Geralt could almost smell the fever brewing.

“We need to stop. Find somewhere to make camp,” Geralt looked around him.

Down the road a way was a copse of pine trees. They would provide shelter. He led Roach on and guided her through the trees until he found a suitable place to set up.  
He looped the rains over a branch and removed her saddle bags.

Jaskier watched him clear away the snow then lay out their bed rolls and dig a shallow pit for a fire. 

“I thought you wanted to go to the next village,” Jaskier blinked at him.

“I do. But you’re not well and we are running out of day light. This here is better than nothing,” he approached Jaskier and helped him slide off the horse. 

Jaskier was stiff and sore from the ride and his knees almost gave way. Geralt caught him and helped him lie down. The Witcher returned to his pack to dig out a bottle he had taken from the Mage’s workshop.

“Geralt… I’m sorry,” Jaskier shuffled to look at him.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better in the morning,” he made sure Jaskier drained the bottle before he stowed it away again.

Jaskier slipped into a deep slumber and Geralt sighed. He went in search of firewood, never striding out of ear shot of their camp. 

After constructing a decent fire in the pit, he sat back and looked out a roll of bread. He wasn’t really hungry, but it was something to keep him occupied for a while as he worried about Jaskier.

He hadn’t left him behind because he needed him to help find the Mage and put a stop to whatever he was up to, but maybe it had been too much too soon. Jaskier was still weak from the manticore attack, and Geralt wasn’t sure how long the Bard could keep going until he could go no further. He had to hope that the potion would work its magic but there was nothing else he could do until morning. 

***  
Geralt had been dosing when a noise broke his sleep. Groggy, he looked about him for the threat only to see Jaskier twitching and trembling in his sleep.

Geralt sprang quickly to his side but this wasn’t the fever. Jaskier was drenched in a cold sweat, inaudible mumblings escaped his lips. His face was screwed up with what Geralt could only describe as torment. He was having a nightmare.

“Jaskier,” the Witcher shook him gently.

Jaskier woke with a start, breathing in ragged gasps, eyes darting all over the place. 

“Jaskier, it’s me. Geralt. You’re safe,” Geralt awkwardly patted him on the shoulder.

“Yeah… uh,” Jaskier looked about him as he realised where he was, “Fuck.”

“What was all that about?” Geralt tiled his head, his amber eyes flashing with concern.

“N-nothing. I – “ Jaskier rubbed his face with his hands, “Where’s the Mage’s seal?”

“What?” Geralt grumbled.

“The seal. Where is it?”

“Why?” Geralt frowned.

“I… I don’t know,” Jaskier quickly brushed away the tears threatening to fall down his face.

“Jaskier,” Geralt reached out to give his shoulder a squeeze.

“We should get going,” Jaskier looked towards the sky as the first light of dawn crept through the branches above. 

They packed up in silence, Geralt watching the Bard closely the entire time. By the time they were both back on the road, the sun was slowly creeping up the sky.

Geralt led Roach, Jaskier followed a few steps behind. The potion seemed to have worked but Geralt’s new concern for Jaskier tightened his chest.

He wished he understood humans better so he could try to talk to Jaskier about what happened, but the Bard wasn’t opening up and he didn’t know where to start trying to get him to talk about it. 

After a few miles, Jaskier started humming. A tune Geralt didn’t recognise.

“Something new?” he asked.

“Maybe,” the Bard smiled at him.

***  
For the next few days the Bard and the Witcher travelled West, passing through villages and towns but never stopping for long. 

Each night Jaskier had a nightmare. Each night he asked about the seal. And each night, he refused to talk about it.

Geralt could only hope that once they reached their destination, he could fix whatever it was the Mage had broken when healing Jaskier. He was sure that was what was wrong. 

Another dirt road lined with rocks and trees and Jaskier was getting restless.

“Where exactly are we going Geralt?” he asked.

“It’s not far now,” the Witcher grumbled from his position on Roach’s back.

“But that’s what you said in the last village, and the village before that. I can’t help wondering if you actually know where you’re going or if you’re just wandering about aimlessly hoping inspiration strikes.”

“I know where I’m going,” Geralt huffed.

“So far this isn’t making for a very good song. I mean I’ve got some wonderful lines about the manticore but walking from town to town with no foreseeable end just isn’t a good story,” Jaskier frowned.

“And the Bard and the Witcher  
Walked into town.  
And the Bard and the Witcher   
Walked into another town.  
And they walked and they walked   
Never a foot out of place  
And then they walked into a village  
Just for a change of pace.”

Jaskier sang.

“Shut up, Jaskier,” Geralt snapped.

“Ah, there’s my Witcher. I did wonder if he was still in there amongst all the caring about me you’ve been doing lately,” Jaskier grinned to himself. 

“There. That’s where we’re going,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier looked up and in front of them, just visible in the distance, stood a grand city.

“There?” Jaskier asked.

“There.”

***  
The city streets were busy and Geralt and Jaskier had to weave in and out of the citizens as they travelled closer to the city centre. Geralt had left Roach on the outskirts of the city, tucked safely away with plenty of food and water to keep her happy.

Eventually they came across a grand house built of shiny black stone. There was an insignia over the doorway.

“Woah, wait! In there?” Jaskier halted.

“Yes,” Geralt knocked on the door.

“With another Mage?” 

“Yes,” Geralt stood back and waited.

The door swung open and Geralt stepped in. After a moment, Jaskier groaned then followed. The door closed behind them.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Jaskier recoiled in disbelief.

“Hello, Geralt. Jaskier.”

“Yennefer,” the Witcher grumbled.

“Nope, we are not doing this, goodbye,” Jaskier made to leave but Geralt held him fast, “Oh come on! Yennefer? Seriously?”

The Mage stood before them dressed in a long dark purple dress with embellishments that seemed to float around her. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,” Geralt gruffed.

“I know why you’re hear. The Bard is reeking of magical energy. Come,” she turned to lead them into the next room.

“Reeking? What? How dare you! I bathe regularly and – “ Jaskier was cut off by Geralt grabbing his scruff and marching him after the Mage.

“Can you help us?” Geralt asked, keeping hold of the Bard.

“I can, but you know there will be a price,” Geralt nodded to her as Yennefer seemed to glide round the table in the centre of the room and paused by her herb shelf.

Jaskier tensed up as he became more familiar with the room. Flashes of lying on a table, pain wracking through his body, death only a few breaths away. He swallowed hard, trying not to let Geralt see how affected he was.

“You are right to look for him,” Yennefer picked out a few herbs and laid them on the table, “He broke away from the Brotherhood around the same time I did. But his sense of grandeur is making him dangerous. He’s meddling with forces he doesn’t understand.”

“Who is he?” Geralt rumbled.

“Nïombre,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “His seal.”

Geralt placed the hexagon on the table.

Yennefer picked up a sprig, waved it over the seal, eyes rolling back into her head and began to chant.

“Geralt?” Jaskier held up his hands which had started to glow.

“Quickly. Place them on the seal,” Yennefer motioned for him to come forwards.

With a little push from Geralt, Jaskier stumbled towards the table and laid both hands on the metal seal. He yelped as heat shot up his arms and tried to pull away, but Yennefer clasped her hands over his and held him there for a moment. 

Eventually she released him, and he fell back, shaking.

“What the fu-?” he panted, checking over both arms for damage.

The seal was now glowing with the same light that had been coming from Jaskier’s hands.

“Does anyone want to tell me what the fuck just happened?” Jaskier scrambled to his feet, angry and indignant.

Yennefer waved a hand over the seal and the light pulsed slightly.

“When a Mage heals someone with magic, it leaves a trace. Barely anything but with the right spell, and,” she indicated the seal, “with the right tool, you can bind the trace and use it to track its source. Your connection with Nïombre is now broken.”

“This will work?” Geralt picked up the seal and glanced at the Mage.

“Do you doubt me Witcher?” she preened.

Geralt grunted and pocketed the seal.

“Now my price,” Yennefer leaned towards him, “Do what you must to Nïombre to stop him, but don’t kill him.”

“Why?” Geralt growled.

“He’s my way back into the good graces of the Brotherhood. I need something from them, he can get me it.”

“Fine,” Geralt growled.

“Now wait a minute,” Jaskier snapped, “You can’t agree to that! What about what the Mage did? With the manticore? Or had you forgotten?” 

“I’ve not forgotten Jaskier,” Geralt turned to the Bard.

“Then, then why?”

“Because that is her price, and I agreed to honour it,” Geralt went to leave the room but spun round as he remembered something. 

“Will this mean Jaskier’s nightmares will stop?” Geralt asked the Mage.

Jaskier blanched, his face turning red.

“His nightmares are his own doing. Nothing magical influencing them,” Yennefer looked at the pair of them curiously. 

“Hm,” Geralt worked his jaw then strode away.

“Until next time Witcher,” Yennefer called after him.

***  
Jaskier was silent as they travelled away from the city. But this silence was very different from before. He was seething. Livid. 

He stomped ahead of Geralt and Roach and the Witcher was trying to find the right words to talk to him.

“Jaskier,” he started.

“No,” Jaskier snapped.

“Jaskier,” he tried again.

“Fuck you Geralt,” Jaskier didn’t look back at him.

Geralt spurred Roach on and swung her round in front of Jaskier forcing him to stop.

“What?” Jaskier spat.

Of all the years he had known Jaskier, he had never seen him angry. There was a fire in his blue eyes and his jaw was clenched. He was breathing hard and his hands were balled into fists.

“Jaskier,” Geralt dismounted his horse and tried to approach him.

“You want to do this now? Right now? Okay then, let’s start with how the only reason you brought me along was so you could use me to find this Mage shall we? Huh? Or how about after everything that happened you just agreed not to kill the bastard? Or, why don’t we start with the fact that my nightmares are none of your fucking business,” Jaskier was trembling.

“I – “ Geralt grumbled.

“You what, Geralt? Huh? You what? You didn’t realise that me almost fucking dying plays over and over again in my head. The fear, the pain, the helplessness. You don’t know how that feels! How could you? But I’m fucking human and I-I-I-,” the tears were coming thick and fast now.

Geralt reached out for him. Jaskier resisted but eventually let Geralt pull him tight to his chest. The Witcher just held him as he cried, sobs wracking his small frame. 

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. I’m sorry.”

“Geralt.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, Geralt,” Jaskier pulled back, “Your pocket’s glowing.”

The Witcher looked down and took the seal out of his pocket. It was indeed glowing very brightly and burned hot in his hand.

Geralt could taste the static of magic in the air and the seal began to hum.

“Fuck.”

There was a loud bang and a flash of light and then nothing.

***  
Geralt woke with a start. He was lying on a cold marble floor in some sort of grand hall. He looked about him and saw Jaskier sprawled a few feet away. Geralt called his name but the Bard didn’t stir.

The Witcher reached out to him and gave him a shake.

Jaskier grumbled then came too, pushing himself up into a sitting position so he could look around.

“Where are we?” he frowned.

Geralt looked around. There were no entrances or exits as far as he could see and the windows lining the walls seemed fuzzy. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier husked.

Geralt turned around to see a cloaked figure standing at the end of the hall. 

“Nïombre,” he growled, “Where’s my fucking horse?”

“Don’t worry Witcher, you’ll be returned to her as soon as I’m done here,” the Mage slithered towards them.

Geralt reached for his sword only to find it gone. He snapped his gaze to the Mage who was inspecting it rather closely.

“You won’t be needing this,” he sneered, discarding the sword to one side.

“What do you want?” Jaskier glared.

“Trust Yennefer to point you in the right direction. She always did hate me,” Nïombre’s strange blue eyes sparkled as he ignored Jaskier and kept walking towards Geralt, “I thought it be easier to just bring you to me, seeing as how you would have figured out how to use the portal eventually.”

Geralt realised the Mage was holding the glowing seal, which he too then discarded.

“You see I am crafting the most wonderful spell and there is one more thing I need,” his eyes flickered to Jaskier and back again so fast Geralt would have missed it if he weren’t a Witcher.

“What do you need?” Geralt’s deep voice rumbled round the room.

“Oh come on, you’re clever. Work it out.”

When Geralt didn’t respond, the Mage sighed as if getting bored.

“What did I say I was testing you for with the Manticore?”

Again, Geralt just glared at him.

“To see if you were worthy of your destiny,” Nïombre snapped, losing patience, “And I took a lock of your hair to use in my spell. You see, destiny is a tricky thing.”

“You’re making a spell to change someone’s destiny? Your destiny?” Geralt frowned. 

“No my dear boy. I want to control destiny. I want destiny to bow to my will!” the Mage roared; arms stretched wide. 

Geralt's stomach dropped. This was worse than he could have imagined. 

As he was talking, Jaskier had slowly begun to edge towards the glowing seal. There was a determined look on his face and Geralt tried to keep the Mage’s attention on himself.

“Why? What for?” he growled.

“To prove to those stuffy bastards of the Brotherhood I can,” Nïombre puffed up, “and now I need one final thing. I need someone to relent their own destiny. Give it up to me. And I will be the most powerful Mage to have ever existed!”

“Give up their own destiny?” Geralt asked.

“Sway them from the path they are on, make them doubt their faith in destiny,” the Mage caught the look in Geralt’s eyes, “Not you, of course not. Even I can’t tamper with your destiny. Not yet at least. But him?”

Nïombre swung round, hand outstretched. Jaskier, who was so close to grabbing the seal, froze stiff. Geralt tried to leap at the Mage but Nïombre swept his hand up and both he and Jaskier disappeared.

“No!” Geralt thundered.

“We haven’t gone far my White Wolf,” the Mage’s disembodied voice floated around him, “Say hello Jaskier.”

“Hello Jaskier,” Jaskier’s voice was strained as if he were fighting whatever the Mage was doing to him.

“Hang on Jaskier! I’m coming,” Geralt picked up his sword and stanced, thinking fast. 

He couldn’t see Nïombre or Jaskier, but they could see him. The area around Geralt was warped and Jaskier struggled under the Mage’s spell.

“Now Jaskier,” Nïombre cooed, “Aren’t you tired of just following hero’s around, putting them in the spotlight and giving them fame, creating their legacy but with no legacy for yourself?”

“Don’t listen to him Jaskier,” Geralt shouted.

Jaskier tried to speak but found he was unable to use his voice.

“Don’t you want to be remembered? Honoured? Loved?” 

“It’ll never work, Nïombre. Destiny isn’t something you can control,” Geralt warned.

Jaskier could feel the despair creeping into his chest and he fought it with everything he had.

“Worse thing have happened to those who have tried,” urged the Witcher, "You're insane!"

“What sort of destiny could you possible have? You think it would be great? A lowly Bard like you? Don’t you want to change that?”

Geralt closed his eyes and breathed slowly. Magic didn’t work on him, not properly. He could feel that the Mage and Jaskier were still in the room, just not visible to himself. He couldn’t just swing randomly in case he hit Jaskier. He needed to know where Jaskier was.

“Jaskier, talk to me!” Geralt thundered.

“No Jaskier, talk to me!” Nïombre hissed, “Tell me, is that what you want?”

Jaskier could feel his mouth forming the word yes and he was shaking with effort to resist. He focused on Geralt. His destiny lay with the Witcher. Destiny had brought them together, destiny had allowed him to write songs about him and start changing how he was viewed by others, destiny had brought him one of the closest friends he had ever had, destiny, his destiny, was real and strong and clear. 

“I’m here,” he managed to choke out.

“No!” the Mage snarled.

Geralt swung his sword, catching Nïombre and breaking the illusion.

Jaskier scrambled away from the Mage as Geralt swung his sword down. The blade cut through the Mage and Nïombre screamed. 

As the Mage writhed in pain, Geralt searched his robes and took back the lock of his hair.

“It’s over,” Geralt growled. 

***  
Geralt stroked Roach’s mane as he watched the cowering Mage as his feet.

Jaskier perched on a rock not far away, tuning his lute and chewing a barley stem.

“Well, at least he is alive,” the voice made Jaskier look up.

“Yennefer,” Geralt nodded at her.

She glanced down at the whimpering, blood-soaked Nïombre.

“The price has been paid,” Geralt said sternly.

“Yes. It has,” she whipped her arms and in a flash she and Nïombre were gone.

“So it is finally over?” Jaskier peered up at Geralt.

“Yes,” the Witcher watched the Bard rise from his rock and spit out his stem, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Eventually,” Jaskier sighed. 

“Hm,” Geralt grunted, “Maybe at the next town it be best if we part ways for a while.”

Surprise flitted across Jaskier’s face, but he quickly composed himself.

“Maybe I don’t want to?” he said.

“Good,” Geralt said, swinging himself up on to Roach, “Because I have a few ideas for your next song.”

“Oh really?” Jaskier hurried to catch up to him, “Well do tell. Personally, I think you could tell a riveting story if you wanted to and it would entertain thousands. But what do I know? I’m just a lowly Bard.” 

“No Jaskier. You’re my Bard,” Geralt gruffed with a hint of fondness.

Jaskier laughed.

“Well then, I can’t wait to see what you think would make a good song.”

“Jaskier – “

“Seriously.”

“Maybe I don’t – “

“Geralt of Riva  
That is my name.  
And I do stabbing for money and fame.  
Here is my horse  
I think she’s swell,  
But don’t you dare touch her   
Or I’ll send you to hell.”

Jaskier sang and strummed his tune on his lute and Geralt rolled his eyes.

The two set off again, the Bard and the Witcher, and even though Geralt knew Jaskier would need time to heal properly, he was hopeful that his relationship with the Bard would remain strong.


End file.
